


Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

by LateStarter58



Series: The Loki and Theresa Stories [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: It is time for us to discover what happens next to Loki, Theresa and their children on Asgard. As you might expect, it is not all plain sailing...





	Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

**Author's Note:**

> Part 7 of the series. A bit of fluffy romantic nonsense

“LOKI! You can’t be in here! Go, now!!!” The door, which had swung open briskly, closed at the same speed, one large hand raised momentarily in the interval between, in acknowledgement of his error.

I am not given to shouting; I’m more of a _through-gritted-teeth_ kind of a person. In other words, if I speak quietly, listen, because you may learn something of great import to your long-term survival. However, this is one occasion that calls for raised voices. The room is so enormous, he would not have heard me otherwise. But why, you ask, mustn’t Loki be in there? Well, dear reader, for a very old-fashioned reason. And he knew that damn well. He knows everything. It’s infuriating, but true. He’s just messing with me. Me and Vigdis, the head seamstress, who is tutting loudly and shaking her head. She reminds me of the little woman in _The Incredibles:_ you know, _NO CAPES!_ She’s dark, tiny, and permanently furious about everything. And true to his nature, my man just loves to turn up the wick and see what happens.

It’s another flawless Asgard day. Gentle warm sunshine, a light breeze wafting; it’s movie-perfect. It might become tedious after a while, I suppose, but life around here won’t ever get dull, not with my children. I can hear Lily singing from the next room, and I’m guessing she is dancing too, because there is the unmistakable sound of her baby brother’s laughter. I nearly said ‘little’ brother, but that is hardly a description of my second-born. At just six months, he is already almost as big as his half-sister. And about to start trying to walk. He can’t help it. It’s his Frost Giant genes.

There is a peak in Frey’s delighted giggling, and then Loki’s bass-baritone begins to join in the song. I can picture the scene: Loki is holding Lily - perhaps she is standing on his toes as they dance - while his son looks on from his blanket on the floor of our rooms, enraptured. Or perhaps he is on Loki’s hip, joining in the terpsichore. Frey adores his _Far_. It is mutual.

_“Let’s go fly a kite, up to the highest height…”_

“Do ‘Spupercabbyfactsymistic’, Daddy! Peees!”

I hear him laughing, and then a squeak of baby joy. _“I do not really know the words for that one, Lily dearest.”_

“Pees!!! Um tiddle um tiddle, you know, Daddy!”

Meanwhile, I am stuck in here with a woman who resembles an angry ant, having to stand very still or risk pins sticking me. “Please do not move, madam!” roars Vigdis, and I take a deep breath and try to remember what on earth - oops, sorry, _what on Midgard -_ I was thinking when I agreed to this.

_____________________________________________

Imagine the scene: it is only a few hours since I gave birth to my son. I say, ‘gave birth’, but actually, Frey was from my womb untimely ripp’d, but that was to stop him from tearing me to shreds. No, it was not a normal pregnancy, by any measure. But I’m OK, thanks to Asgardian medical science, and Loki’s healing ‘magic’. I’m lying in our enormous bed, the baby is asleep in the next room, being watched over by Mary P, who has strict instructions only to disturb me for feeds. I’m tired, but only as any woman would be under the circs. So it takes a few minutes for me to process what Loki is saying.

“Hold on Lokes, rewind...what?”

_“I said, it is the custom to present a new royal child to the people within a day.”_

“OK…”

_“And I would, with your permission of course, like to announce our forthcoming marriage at the same time.”_

His eyes - god, those eyes! They get me every time. Green, with gold flecks. They sparkle, literally. Frey has the same ones. Anyway, those damn eyes are enchanting me again. But I mean to say, it’s not the most romantic of proposals, is it?

“I see, so you want to save on stationery and catering, is that it? Make the christening and wedding a joint do?”

I see I have caught him by surprise, which is rare. He frowns and cocks his head to one side. _“I meant no offence, my darling.”_

“Offence? I’m not offended, Loki. Nah. Annoyed, disappointed, maybe, but not, um, _offended_.” I don’t often have him on the back foot, and I intend to make the most of this rare event.

He shifts closer on the bed and takes my hands in his, squeezing gently. He is fully-dressed, whereas I am in the traditional dress of the brand-new mother: a breastmilk-stained nightgown and a sheen of sweat. I meet his gaze and fall in love all over again. Damn him! It’s the hormones. I’ll be snarling at him in a few hours, I am sure, but for now he has me under his thrall. But I refuse to make this easy. This should be a special moment in our relationship; he’s made it sound like the fulfilment of some bureaucratic protocol.

_“My darling Theresa, please, will you do me the honour of becoming my queen?”_

“I thought I was already.” One elegant eyebrow raises. “You keep calling me that.”

He smirks. _“A figure of speech.”_

“So you want to formalise things, then.”

He takes a deep breath through his teeth. _“I suppose you could put it that way, yes. I wanted to ask you before, but-”_

“You were waiting to see how things turned out?” I have gone too far; I see genuine pain in his face. “I’m sorry, Loki, that sounded worse than I meant… of course I understand. I was hardly in any state to walk down the aisle, not while resembling a small commercial vehicle.” He smirks again, then chuckles softly and I reach over and stroke his hair, glossy black and only just over his collar now, thanks to that long-awaited haircut. I take a try at that eyebrow-raising trick. “Forgive me?”

He doesn't answer immediately, just pulls me carefully onto his lap and holds me as tightly as he dares; it will be a few more days before I fully heal. I feel his heart beating fast. _“Always. I love you, Theresa, with all my heart. I was afraid for you, for both of you, and that fear made me… I dared not make plans. I could not bear to think-”_

“Shhh, darling, shhh.” I kiss his cheeks which are wet, and then his mouth, salty with his tears. I nuzzle him, needing his reassurance as much as he needs to confirm I am well and still there. It has been a hard time for us both, but we have survived, and we have a beautiful boy to show for it. “Of course I’ll marry you, Loki. I love you more than life. Of course I will.”

_________________________________________

The declaration is made, and it being the morning after his arrival as is the tradition, Frey is taken to the palace balcony and displayed to the masses. I’m not there - I’m fast asleep and no doubt snoring. The trauma of the birth and the gruelling months that led up to it, not to mention the upheaval of leaving North Essex for the Eternal Realm… well, to put it frankly, I was shattered. Gerda, my personal maid, tells me our son was greeted with wild cheering, as was the marriage announcement. She and I have become closer - she still keeps that distance which is inevitable between servant and… what am I, _mistress?_ I think I am still a puzzle to her, as I am to most Asgardians. I don't behave the way a member of a royal family is supposed to, I’m sure, which must perplex her even more. But you see, I don’t approve of unearned privilege back home, and for all my many faults, I do try my best not to be a hypocrite... meaning I don’t expect or want bowing and scraping or any of that shite. My approach is to act as if I am a manager and the servants are my staff. I try to, anyway, and to treat them accordingly. As my equals, simply there to assist me.

Weeks pass and I am gradually recovering my strength. Loki is busy doing whatever it is kings do around here. Some days he seems very stressed and crotchety, even with me. Only the children get his best side all the time. Lily, who has turned three since we came to Asgard, worships him. In fact, she has most of the male members of the household under her spell. She’s a terrible flirt - I don’t know where she gets that from - and what with Fandral coming for play-dates weekly, Volstagg giving her piggy-back rides around the gardens, and as for Thor…

Yes, Uncle Thor is a frequent visitor to our rooms. Lily loves him, and he loves her back. She finds him highly amusing, which pleases his brother no end. The relationship between my first-born and the God of Thunder is fascinating to me; she sees him as her main source of entertainment and likes nothing better than to find a new way to humiliate him, however innocently. It is not at all unusual for me to walk into the main living area to find him perched awkwardly on a blanket with Lily putting makeup on his face or plaiting ribbons into his hair. And he just sits there, his laugh rumbling like distant thunder as she does it.

Well, since Jane dumped him he has got a bit clingy…

And of course, it is Thor who seems to stress Loki out the most. I know some of their history, and since I have got back on my feet, I have been spending quite a lot of time in the palace library trying to fill in the gaps in my knowledge. The first time I went there I nearly walked straight back out - just about everything in there is written in runes. But the librarians showed me how to use a machine which translates for you. It looks a lot like the microfiche reader I used to use at Uni, large and cumbersome and a bit 1980s, but it has made it possible for me to do some research.

The books are all written in very flowery language - everybody is _So-and-So the Whatever,_ and just about every story seems to include a giant and/or a troll, with a few goats thrown in for good measure. I soon give up on the older stories - history was my worst subject at school. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, I’m fascinated, but the academic side of it, all that endless trawling through stuff to get evidence? And not like scientific evidence, oh no, nothing that straightforward or unequivocal... Nope.

What I really need should be in the latest entries. Loki has been sparing in what he tells me, so far. For most of the time I’ve been in Asgard I have been unwell or heavily pregnant, and the last thing I needed was more to worry about, so fair enough. But now things have changed; I am literally back on my feet, and so, it seems, is Asgard. The unrest that led to him coming to see me covered in wounds and bruises has settled down, and the atmosphere in the palace is more relaxed (in so far as you can describe a place with hundreds of servants and a minstrels’ gallery _relaxed_ ). 

What I am after isn’t easy to find, though. As I said, Jane is out of the picture. I am still in touch with her, but it means summoning Heimdall (oh yes, Theresa gets to _summon_ people nowadays). He is actually very helpful, and kind. And really handsome, but don’t tell Loki I said so. He rocks up, all golden-eyed and making gnomic utterances, sends my letters to her, no idea how, but he has some kind of a system which means I get answers as well. She’s coy about what happened between them, and I don’t press her on it. It’s none of my business anyway. But she has been very helpful in talking about how Thor seems to feel about his brother. She agrees with my assessment: Thor wants things to be better. What the media might call a ‘normalisation of relations’. As for Loki, well...

The records for the last few years are incomplete. The librarians exchange glances when I quiz them about that. My suspicion is that Loki has been keeping a lid on a shit-load of stuff that has been happening. But this much I have been able to glean: Loki was in prison after the Battle of New York, then there was an attempted invasion during which Queen Frigga was killed, and Thor released him so that he could help in the fight back - but unofficially. After that, the records get a bit confusing. According to Jane, Loki appeared to have been killed in the fighting on Svartalfheim (she actually saw it happen), which was the home of the invaders. You remember all that madness in Greenwich? Those fuckers.

This is where it gets really odd and complicated; the records say that Odin (that’s their Dad, by the way) has left Asgard, but not where for. And Loki starts appearing recorded as the ruler, but there has been no coronation or anything. And it’s really weird, because even if you accept that Loki is a legitimate son - even if an adopted one - he’s still younger than Thor. What happened there, then? I go back a tad further, before the NYC unpleasantness, and I discover that Loki was made the regent before, when Thor was banished to Ear- _MIDGARD._ I’ll get the hang of that soon. But that was all written down formally, after he fell off the Bifrost when there was a massive fight when Thor came home unexpectedly.... Is that part of the trouble between them?

I have to say that despite the dry, bureaucratic nature of these records, the facts are upsetting. He won’t talk about it, but Loki must have had a horrible time after that. Whoever forced him to do those things, I hope they pay for it. Loki still has nightmares, and I am sure they are about what he experienced then. Well, I suppose there is a chance that given time, he will tell me himself. What Jane did say was this: Thor does not wish to be king. And Loki did want it, and seems to have a talent for it, so they agreed on that, _she thinks._ She doesn’t really know either. Damn these Norse gods! They’re so bloody _male._

_____________________________________________

I don’t have as much time as I’d like for my studies, because there is the small matter of motherhood, not to mention a wedding to plan. We nearly have a row about it one afternoon not long after the official announcement.

“ _If you wish, my dearest, the staff can arrange everything for us.”_

I am outraged. “Fuck that! My first wedding was just a few mates and a boozy evening in the pub. At least let me choose the flowers or something this time!”

I see him glance at Mary Poppins - she’s our nanny. She’s actually a projection of Loki (of one of his ‘aspects’. Yeah, I know - _not a fucking clue_ ), so I am confident she would do anything to protect the children. And she is superb with them, and strong enough to hang onto my son, who is half non-human, large, powerful and precocious. She gathers baby Frey up in her arms and suggests a walk in the gardens to Lily. Loki waits until they are gone, then it is my turn to be picked up and carried off with no ceremony. Once in our bedchamber, he throws me on the bed (it’s totally fine: it’s huge and I have a soft landing. The mattress is about three feet thick) and begins removing his clothes.

“Hang on, Sunshine. Don't think you can get round me by brandishing that!”

_“Oh no?”_

I feel my resolve weakening as his body is revealed. The light here shimmers metallically, and it makes the pale perfection of his skin utterly beautiful. His gaze is fixed on me as one by one, his garments are discarded. Long, muscular arms appear; a sculpted alabaster chest; legs that go on for miles, shapely and powerful; and then his trump card: the phallus of a god.

“This isn’t very PC, Lokes.” His eyebrow raises in irritation. “I am entitled to my opinion, you know.”

_“Oh my darling Theresa, I know that only too well. And you may make as many decisions as you wish regarding the nuptial feast and the rest of it. What I wish to prove to you is why we are to marry. And how much I adore you.”_

And so he does.

Like all new parents, we had to refrain from sex for a period, but since everything has healed up and I feel less like a lactating cow and more like myself again, well, let’s say that Loki has been keen to make up for lost time. He advances on me and I strive to get out of my own clothes as fast as I can - not the easiest when you’re on a very downy bed. In the end he gets there first and saves time by ripping my remaining garments away.

“Tut, tut, Loki. What a waste.”

I get only a growl in reply, and the sound of it makes me close my eyes and moan a little. I feel his cool cheek against my breast and then he is there, nipping and kissing, the heat of his mouth a delicious contrast. I arch my back into him, and he chuckles, and holds me in position as his mouth explores further. I tense as he approaches my abdomen, which is still loose and flabby after the stretching a 20lb foetus gave it. I feel him pause.

_“Theresa, you are my queen, and you always will be. How often must I tell you that appearances are unimportant? You are, always have been, and ever will be, completely beautiful to my eyes.”_

“I know. I know that, but I can’t help it.”

_“Try,”_ he growls again, I surrender to his touch and feel my mind spiralling up as my body is caressed and pleasured and I wallow in the sensual heaven of him.

He smells so fresh, so cool, so... _right._ He looks how you might imagine a god would appear - perfect, tall, beautiful, stern but with some humour deep within. He feels...oh how GOOD he feels, and when he lies me down on the twenty or so pillows Gerda always makes up the bed with, I know that no woman ever needed more than Loki gives me, both physically and in every other imaginable way.

Will I ever tire of this moment? I ask myself this as he enters me, and I feel the stretching, the filling, the wonderful sensation of closeness. It goes on and on and my body grasps and judders as he stops and rests his cheek on my shoulder, his lips pressing on the crest of bone.

_“Queen Theresa...”_

His breath is hot, the skin of his belly is cool and where my thighs wrap around him he feels like marble. Marble with something soft stretched over it. I might continue these pointless and mildly incoherent thoughts, but now he is moving and I am losing my mind. He snaps his hips and I squeal, which makes him laugh, which makes me scream with pleasure. I can tell that this will be fast and dirty, and I am not surprised; after all, these are still office hours, and I wouldn’t mind betting there’s a queue of people with petitions for him. No doubt they are all imagining he’s nipped home for a bit of hanky-panky…

Despite his apparent haste during, afterwards we lie against one another, the breeze blowing fragrant air through the room and he seems in no hurry to leave. I play with a lock of his hair, black and shiny like polished ebony.

“So I can choose my dress, that sort of thing?”

_“Of course. But there are a few conventions that will have to be observed. Nothing you will object to, I am sure.”_

Something occurs to me. “Hang on.” I sit up so I can see his face properly. “Did you engineer a disagreement so that we could fuck?”

He shakes his head sadly. _“So crude.”_

God, how I love him.

“Because you know, I’m pretty much always up for it, babe.”

He laughs loudly and grabs me, pressing me back into the pillows so he can whisper in my ear. _“Oh, I know that, my naughty one. Now I must return to my duties.”_

__________________________________________

At least once a week if possible, at my insistence, we have a family dinner. Just us Odinsons, you know: me, Loki, the kids and Thor. The men always talk to each other politely, but many of the apparently harmless remarks seem barbed. Looks flash between them and I see Loki’s jaw tighten in irritation. I don't doubt it’s bad for his digestion. I have started to formulate a plan. I am determined to get to the bottom of this. And if I can, to change it. I will not have the kids growing up in this atmosphere.

At one of these meals, about a month before the wedding, I bring up the subject of the ceremony. I’ve been looking into it, and I’m determined to avoid some of the madder traditions. Even then, it wouldn’t be like a normal wedding. I have no family or friends who would want to come - even if they could. I have no dowry, nothing to bring beyond myself and our child. We have set the date for a Friday, as is the custom - and that day holds extra significance as it is named for Frigga, of course.

“I’m not throwing away all my clothes.”

_“Of course not.”_

**_“Why would you, Theresa?”_ **

I look at Thor. He is smiling, but he has one eye on his brother, as usual. “Isn’t that traditional?”

**_“Amongst the people, perhaps, but we are the royal family.”_ **

“Oh, OK.” I smirk. “So I don’t have to have Mjölnir in my lap, then?”

Loki stands up so suddenly his chair tips over. “ _No, absolutely not!”_

I laugh. “OK, OK, sorry, just wondered.” He’s glaring, but not at me. Thor is studiously avoiding his gaze. He’s trying not to smile, I am sure. “So, on Ear- Sorry, on Midgard, in my society, there are witnesses, and someone accompanies the bride. Usually it’s her father, but…”

Loki sits down, still visibly worked up. I seem to have touched a nerve with that Mjölnir joke - but it was traditional for that to happen. Perhaps not with the _real_ thing, which I understand is impossible for anyone but Thor to lift. _Or so he says, anyway_. You know me, always the sceptic. Lily starts messing around, something she often does when things get tense. It’s her way of coping, I think. I turn round to discover she has taken Frey’s mostly-empty bowl away and he is now wailing loudly. Yes, he’s on solids already. _THANK GOD -_ my boobs will be so happy when he is completely weaned. Jeez, that boy can tug. He isn’t feeding himself yet, but he loves to play with the wooden bowls we use, so I let him have it by him once he’s finished eating.

“Lil, put that back please.” I keep my voice low and even. No need to add to the tension.

She pouts and does as I ask, but with ill grace. I give her a meaningful look and she pouts even more.

**_“Why ever would you want your brother’s dinner when you have hardly eaten yours, Lily?”_ **

Thor’s words make her look down in shame and shrug. “Dunno.” It is little more than a mumble. “Jus’ playin.”

“Come on, darling, finish your dinner, then you can play. You like this chicken stew, don’t you?”

She nods reluctantly and scoops up a spoonful. Her eyes are on her step-father, whose face looks almost as sulky as hers. I decide to change the subject, asking Loki about a trip to Vanaheim he has planned for the day after next. The atmosphere eases and I relax a bit. Lily settles and after I have fed him (ouchy), Frey goes off to bed, tucked in by his Daddy and sung to sleep by his sis.

I take my opportunity. “Thor, I wanted to ask you something.” He is standing in the open doors to the balcony, looking out over the city. He almost fills the space, even without his cape and armour. When I speak, he turns to face me and I am struck once again by how handsome he is. So different to Loki’s dark and mysterious beauty, Thor’s is a more obviously Scandinavian look - all blonde hair and muscles. But he has such kind eyes, and they are the key; he is a gentle, thoughtful man, beneath the occasional macho bluster.

**_“What can I do for you, Theresa?”_ **

“I need someone to walk with me, at the wedding.” I watch his face. He frowns.

**_“Have you spoken of this with Loki?”_ **

“I have not. Whom I choose for this is my decision. And I choose you to give me away, Thor.”

He smiles, and after a moment’s pause, nods, and I run over and take the proffered hug. Which would be great, if Loki wasn’t just walking into the room with Lily on his hip.

_________________________________________________

I don’t see him for three days. He simply puts Lily down, turns on his heel and leaves. The trip to Vanaheim comes and goes, and then, late in the evening, some hours after I know he has returned - the palace is a place awash with gossip on all matters - he walks in. He is dusty, crumpled and his hair is a mess. He stands, stiff and uncomfortable-looking, just inside the door.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I get the now traditional raised eyebrow. _“I have been on Vanaheim, as you well know.”_

“For the last twenty-four hours, yeah, but what about before that?”

He looks at me steadily. There is pain in his eyes, and I feel my resolve weaken. But no, I have to stand up to him over this. He must face whatever it is that is keeping him from admitting his feelings.

_“I wanted to give you and Thor some… how does the phrase go? Some space.”_

I lose it. He has to know that’s bullshit. “For fuck’s sake, Loki! He’s going to be my brother-in-law! I’d asked him a favour, he’d agreed. That was it!”

_“I see.”_ He has the good grace to look a little shamefaced.

I’m furious now. “What’s this really about, Loki? It’s not about me, at all, is it?” He just glares back at me, meeting my anger head on, not giving an inch. I’m so angry I’m panting like a dog, but I rein it in, determined to grasp this moment. “What is it with you and Thor? Did he steal your favourite teddy or something? Break your best sword?”

He looks away. I almost gasp - he never backs down, he’s always the one reasoning with me, making me feel over-emotional. I watch him walk slowly round the edge of the room towards the balcony, where the light of the sunset is painting the ivory stone a rich peachy-pink. I do what my instinct tells me and follow, catching up, wrapping my arms around him and resting my face against his side. He feels like a statue.

_“I have lived all my life in his wake. He was always the favoured one, and for most of my existence I thought that was because he was the first. And because he was so much more like the All-Father, whereas I was always a thing of magic and wiles. Then I learned my true parentage, and so much made sense.”_

I squeeze him tightly and he takes a deep breath and leans into my hug - just a little, it’s almost imperceptible. “Is any of this actually Thor’s fault, though?” He stiffens again and gently but firmly removes himself from my embrace. Fuck - too direct a question? “Loki?”

He steps out into the evening and I follow. Below and all around us, the magnificence of Asgard twinkles and shimmers in the glow of the setting sun. All this _he rules_ , I think. And he has us. How is that not enough for him?

“What has Thor done to make you hate him so much?”

There is a long silence. I watch flocks of birds as they swoop and dive and soar up again in great clouds, searching for roosts. The occasional raven flaps lazily by - apparently they were and are still used for carrying messages, but most of them look too well-fed to get very far.

_“So many things.”_ Typical sort of an answer; I swallow my irritation.

“He loves you, you know. In spite of everything.”

His head turn swiftly to face me. “ _He has told you that?”_

“Of course not. He’s a man. But he does, Loki. I can see it. It shouts from him.” I see a look on his face which I have never seen before. “Why did you run off like that, Loki?”

_“I saw him holding you. And I could feel his...”_

“His what?”

_“His love for you, and yours…”_

“Darling, of course he loves me. We’re family. And I am fucking awesome! And I love him back, but as a brother. And you know that, don’t you?”

He shrugs, and I see how this all weighs on him. His shoulders are slumped; he seems aged by it, this emotional pressure. _“I just suddenly felt as if you might…”_ I wait while he finds the words. It has to be from him. No prompting. _“As if I was losing... you, not your love, but…”_

“My trust?” Damn. The pain on his face is tangible, and I feel it too.

_“In a way.”_ He closes his eyes and I move close enough to hold him again. _“Father...Odin, he...I knew that his love for me, such as it was, was always conditional.”_

“Mine isn’t.” He cups my face and kisses me softly.

_“And Thor always seemed to be on the winning side.”_

“And you weren’t.” He grunts. “Do you trust _me_ , Loki?”

_“Always.”_

“Then you know I’m on _your_ side. We’re a team. For good.”

He nods and a weary smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He allows me to lead him back indoors to the couch and he sits down abruptly, as if his legs suddenly can’t hold his weight. His eyes are fixed on mine, and they are tired. So terribly tired; I wonder how much sleep he has had in the last seventy-two hours. I reach over and pull him into my arms.

_“How are the children?”_ His voice is muffled by my hair. I’m growing it for the wedding - I fancy an up do.

“They are fine. Lily keeps asking when you’ll be back. Frey has been difficult to settle at night, but that’s all.” I lean back to look into his eyes, which are wet. “They’ve missed you, Loki.” He looks away again. “You can’t do that, just take off. It’s not fair.” He sighs. “If you are angry or upset at me - or Thor, come to that - I need to know that you will talk to us about it. You’re not a child anymore. And running away - it’s not the answer.”

_“You are right. I have been foolish. I… I have to…to change my…”_

It seems he is too exhausted to form sentences now. His eyes close and soon he is asleep in my arms.

In the middle of the night, Frey wakes up, fretful and sounding hungry. This still happens occasionally; he’s a big boy and needs a lot of grub, but his boredom threshold means he often refuses more food just because he is fed up with the dull process of eating. I have to ease myself off Loki’s chest, and despite my best efforts, I wake him. “Sorry darling, the boy needs a feed.”

Loki sits up, eyes sharp and apparently rested. _“I will fetch him for you.”_

As Frey latches on (and I grit my teeth), Loki sits down opposite and I watch him watching us. I am reminded of the first time I watched him playing with Lily in the flat in Colchester. His face has the same sweet, innocent joy. He knew, I think to myself, he knew there was nothing in that hug. But Thor presses buttons in him that nobody else can reach.

“Do you want to know what the favour is?”

_“I beg your pardon?”_

“The favour Thor agreed to. Do you want to know what it is?”

He smirks. _“You asked him to be your escort at the ceremony.”_

He’s lucky that the baby is at my breast. If not, I would have cheerfully throttled him. “If you knew that-”

_“I did not, not at the time. All I sensed then was your affection for each other. It was only tonight that I was calm enough to see the truth.”_

Frey is more or less asleep again, so one meaningful look from me is enough. Loki steps over and lifts the child from my arms, strides quickly and purposefully into the nursery to put him back in his cradle, but not before kissing the boy softly on the forehead. My heart always squeezes at the sight, and never more than this time. Then, in a flash, he is back with me, and I am in his embrace. His voice is a low purr in my ear.

_“Seeing you, in my brother’s arms, it just… It circumvented my common-sense. Let us promise not to never argue again, Theresa.”_

Laughter splutters out. “That would be daft, love. We are bound to fight occasionally. We’ve got kids. Plus, you’re, well, _you._ ”

A long pause, during which I am subjected to the longest eyefuck in history.

_“Very well, but then, at least promise me this, as I promise you: that we will both try to talk about any problems. First, before we do anything else.”_

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

_“What th-”_

“ _Yes_ , you old-fashioned, weirdo-alien, beautiful, sexy…”

I run out of words, but not before he has started to nibble on my neck, which makes language an optional extra anyway. I feel his strong arms scooping me up and he walks, slower this time, but with no less determination, to our bedroom. Which I welcome, because I have a crick in my neck from lying on the couch. Those green and gold eyes are burning through me, and I feel myself melting, desperate for his touch, for the proof of his love, and of his desire for me. I know those are real, and yet he seems so magical, such an impossible creature that even now I need that reassurance. And so does he.

He starts, as he so often does, by just looking at me. I am naked, on the bed beneath him. No secrets, nothing concealed, and he is the same, a god hovering over a worshipper. His eyes caress me, making me whimper with need. I reach for his neck and pull him down so I can bite at his lower lip, and he growls. I know that will happen, it is what I need and I bite harder, tasting blood.

_“Very well, Theresa.”_ The tone is menacing, and indeed, before I have time to congratulate myself I am on my knees and he is biting me on the arse. I moan my pleasure and he bites a little harder; enough to hurt but not enough to break the skin. His long cool fingers find my dripping sex and I make a louder noise. One goes inside and I scream. Then he moves, fast as lightning and instead it is that wonderful cock. I lean back and we are one again. All of that stupid misunderstanding, his three-day sulk, all of it is swept away at one magnificent stroke.

He knows I am weary, so he does not draw things out. This is about us reconnecting and reaffirming, so I am excused the usual four orgasms, making do with just two. Well, it is 2 am, and we old almost-married people need our rest. Also, I suspect he is knackered, too. Anyway, it is not too long before he is gasping and his breaths stutter and then stop altogether for a few seconds. He falls over me with a long sigh and bites gently but firmly on my shoulder.

_“I love you, Theresa.”_

“I know.”

_“Good.”_

“What do you say we get married?”

He rolls onto the bed beside me, his eyes glittering in the half-light. He strokes my hair and smiles that sweet, soft smile, the one that made me lose my heart. _“Why not?”_

___________________________________________________

So yeah, that’s why Loki mustn’t come into the bedroom: I’m having the final fitting on my wedding dress. Vigdis mutters something I don’t quite catch and sticks in more pins at the back of the waist. The ceremony is tomorrow, and in fact Loki is here right now for a final visit with the children before he goes off to spend the night elsewhere. Everything else is prepared - as far as I know. The staff tell me it is, and they know it is not worth lying to a member of the family, so… I have ordered a few Midgardian delicacies for the standing buffet - only kidding, it’ll be a FEAST, of course. But I have asked for horseradish sauce with the roast beef, and somehow, Heimdall has procured some _Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra_for pudding. And wine rather than ale for me - it gives me terrible wind. A few dignitaries have been invited, but mostly we are keeping the whole thing small. Well, you know, it’s not as if we haven’t already had a kid together, and there’s not really any point in the pretence of virginity in a mother of two, is there? The only reason he’s staying away tonight is so I can surprise him with my appearance tomorrow. I don’t get many chances to catch him unawares.

Lily is incandescent with excitement - she keeps flouncing around the rooms in her green, gold and white dress, waving her arms. “ _Pactising_ , Mumma.” She is going to be throwing flower petals tomorrow. Vigdis has made Frey a little outfit, too. It’s a perfect miniature of Loki’s dress armour, green felt and leather, with cloth of gold instead of metal fittings, and I almost cry when I see him in it for the first time. He has so much of his father in him: his long limbs, the hint of blue Frost Giant in his colouring, especially when he is upset; his beautiful face, his glossy black hair, that air of haughtiness. But when he smiles, which he does quite a lot, well that’s all me, that is.

And what about Thor? Well, Loki has accepted his role in the ceremony. I want it to be the beginning of something, but that is up to them. I think - no, I know that Thor wants more of a reconciliation, but does Loki, really? I suspect that this hatred is not all that is seems, but he remains stubbornly silent on the matter. My research has chronicled the fights, Loki’s sins, all that has gone before. But this is about how they feel about each other. And only they know that for sure.

_______________________________________

I am such a fool.

I’ve spent so much time worrying about what I would wear, how the children would be dressed, even what Thor was going to be wearing. About the food, the drink, the table arrangements, my hair, my makeup, shoes, would everyone have a nice time, will I break some taboo if I don’t swap swords with Loki and get rat-arsed at the party…

I don’t give a moment’s thought to how I will feel as I walk down the Great Hall of Asgard, dressed up to the nines, my daughter prancing ahead scattering petals on the shiny floor, on my way to get married to the God of Mischief. Not because I am nervous, although I am. I have chills, and they seem to be increasing as the hour nears. I have never done anything remotely like it - as I said, my first wedding was perfunctory, to put it mildly, much like the marriage. I didn’t go to my High School Prom, I never got picked for the play, or to be the soloist at the concert… Boo-hoo, yeah, but why should I worry about that shit now?

No, it’s not the nerves. It’s not the dress, yards of embroidered ivory silk trailing in all directions, or the green and gold flowers in my hair. It’s not the crowds, even though it seems that all of the city has turned out and are throwing rose petals at me, cheering, smiling… Thor squeezes my hand which is resting on his vambrace - _get me, I know all these new words_ \- and I smile gratefully up at him. No, it all sort of fades away when I see him, off in the distance, waiting for me.

He glows.

He is gold, and glitter and shimmering light.

He is a god.

_My god._

I feel the tiniest of tugs and I realise I have stopped moving and Thor, bless him, is giving me a nudge. I set off, and again the room tunnels down to the space between me and Loki. He is wearing the full regalia, including that helmet. Yes, the one he had on in Stuttgart, and New York. Looked daft, didn't it, on TV?

It’s not.

It is a thing of beauty, all graceful, shining, golden, swooping curves. The style accentuates the shape of his face, and with it on he is so tall that I feel tiny as I reach him. He turns and I watch his anxious face dissolve into the sweetest of smiles. Now I can take in the rest of him; every inch the king, his rich green cape shimmers, his metal and leather armour glitters and shines in the light of a million candles and the sun that beams down from the high windows.

As I instructed, Thor takes my hand from his forearm and passes it to Loki. Their eyes meet and it happens. It’s just a start, but it’s real: Loki smiles at his brother. The formal ceremony has begun, and soon I will be a real queen.

________________________________________________

The day has one more surprise in store for me. As the feast gets underway, and I look around the table at my family - Frey in his high chair, fists banging, smiling his mother’s smile, Lily grinning and flirting with Thor (really, that girl is incorrigible), and my new husband ( _squee_ ), I notice him speaking quietly to the head steward. Everything seems normal until the time comes for the wine and ale to be poured. They pass my goblet by. Outraged, I am about to protest when a soft, dark, chocolaty voice whispers in my ear.

_“No wine for you, my queen. Not for some months.”_

Note to self: next library visit, investigate Asgardian contraception.


End file.
